FineTuning the Future
by Raicathre
Summary: When someone close to Marty dies, he begins to blame himself for the accident. With no Doc to help him, and the time machine shattered into shards of memories, Marty sets out to change the past on his own.
1. Love Train

**Introduction: **Right, this is my first ever BTTF fanfic, I am a poor writer, well I think I am, so if you just ignore the lack of writing skills and concentrate on the rip-roarin', plot twistin' action adventurin' storyline, all will be well!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Back t' Future or any of the characters, etcetera…Crying shame though…

On with the show, guys! ;) Oh, and if you have any suggestions, feel free to shout them at me…or just tell me, whichever suits you…

**Fine-Tuning the Future**

**Chapter 1**

"Marty, can I just ask you something?" Jennifer said with a wide beam across her fair face.

Marty grinned back at her, for the moment, looking like something from a John Wayne movie scarcely shook him. He was already thinking up Jennifer's reply in his head; "Will you marry me?" was amongst the more radical.

"Could you tell me what has been going on the past day?" she asked, her smile replaced by a concerned expression, her thin brows meeting.

"Day for you, Jen, I don't even know what time it is! Come to think of it, I never did get a chance to check it, I was a little busy avoiding trains," Marty replied, remembering a few minutes earlier, as he tried to stumble out of the DeLorean, sitting right in the path of an oncoming train. He could still hear its dull, blaring horn ringing in his ears.

"Marty, what are you talking about? I mean, I see you wearing strange clothes and you're all over me like you have been away for so long you forgot what I looked like! Just, please, tell me what is up? And that train…I'd like to have that explained, I don't think that image is ever going to leave me…" Jennifer replied, her voice starting to sound a little breathy and desperate.

"Well, I can start by telling you, that was a _time-travelling_ train, and before _you_ start yammerin' on about "It isn't possible", it is, because you were there in the future with me just yesterday! Well, it was yesterday for me. I swear that every word is true. How can you not see that piece of paper there that "erased itself", you dreaming, Jen?" Marty said, laughing to himself.

Jennifer's mouth hung slightly agape, and her eyes were wide and wandering.

"Maybe I am, Marty…" she said finally.

"No, no, no, no, you're not, and you've got to believe me that it's true, 'cause it really did happen! You went to the future and you saw our kids, and you saw yourself as a forty seven year old! It sounds _really_ stupid, even to me, but that's what happened! Hell, I went to the _past. _I went to nineteen fifty five and met my parents!" Marty said, his voice raising an octave higher than its usual pitch.

"Marty, are you OK?" Jennifer said, grasping his arm firmly, but gently.

"Ha, I'm fine, Jen, I've never been better!" Marty ran his hands through his hair, making it look like a gust of wind had just swept past him.

Jennifer grabbed him around the shoulders and looked at him sternly. He smiled stupidly at her and waved sheepishly.

"Are you drunk? Is that why you look like Clint Eastwood?" she said to him with a frown.

"That's so funny, 'cause that was my name in the ol' west! I went there too, to rescue Doc from being shot by Mad-Dog Tannen!" Marty replied. He then realised by surveying the look in Jennifer's eyes that he was raving on about something that she couldn't possibly comprehend.

He was going to miss talking about what happened in the future and the past now that Doc was gone.

"If you don't believe me, why did you ask?" Marty said, pulling away from her and making his way up the grass verge next to the track.

He stood at the top. From here, he could see the bits of metal sheeting, the wiring, the fabric from the seating of the old DeLorean. It was such a shame; he had grown to love that car, as it had been his getaway more than once. And his saviour, helping him sort out future and past problems that he would have otherwise been incapable of.

"I asked because I wanted to, and I wanted a straight answer too, Marty." Jennifer said blankly with a hint of frustration.

"You saw all that, you saw that _train_ and you want a straight answer?" Marty laughed.

"There was something odd about that train, yeah…"

"Odd? Odd? Jennifer, you need to wake up and smell the DeLorean smokin' all over the tracks! Damn, you were _there!_ You said so yourself!" Marty was almost yelling at her now.

"It had to be a dream, Marty, it was too weird to be real, it's Doc, he's been putting ideas into your head or something, why are you so mad? Is it because of that car? Do you think it's your fault it was wrecked? It didn't even belong to you! The Toyota is yours, and I thought I was too!" Jennifer raised her voice to counter his.

"Ideas? You think all that stuff I had to do to change my destiny was an _idea?_ The DeLorean…was an accident. It was supposed to happen, and it was mine, Jen." Marty threw his hands in the air and stormed down the other side of the verge.

"The paper is proof! It's there in your hand, have you ever heard of that company? No? It's a company from the future!" Marty said frantically, his back was turned away from her and he shut his eyes so tight that they ached.

"You want the paper so much, Marty? Then have it!" Jennifer let the paper drop to the floor, and it disappeared entirely, swallowed up by the DeLorean debris.

"Jen, I didn't mean it like that…" he began, slowly turning around to face her. He met her face on, they were nose to nose, and Jennifer's eyes were shining with tears, they were collecting on her eyelashes.

"How did you mean it then, Clint? Any other girl would just accept that you've "travelled through time" and suddenly admire you like some sort of celebrity, wouldn't they? Are those the kind of girls you want hanging around?!" she shouted, though her voice occasionally fell silent halfway through a word.

"No, of course not, it's just that I thought you'd understand…" he started again.

No use, he was trying to cover up a mistake that had really got Jennifer riled.

"You thought I'd understand? Do you think I'm like some sort of sidekick that you can explain all of your fearsome plans to? Well, think again!" She shouted, driving a finger into his chest.

She raised her hand in the effort to slap him, but she let her arm drop.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow." She said with a dark glare and a husky voice that reminded Marty too much of his mother when she was angry.

Jennifer promptly pushed past him and shoved against his shoulder as she did so.

"Jennifer…" he began in what he hoped to be a compassionate tone, but he left his sentence hanging, knowing it would be no use and only land him in more trouble than he was.

"I hope I wasn't an accident, like that stupid car you seem to love so much!" she shouted at him, she didn't even turn to face him, she just continued on.

He was really wishing that he had never gone back in time. He had the adventures of a lifetime, but now he had no-one to spend his normal one with anymore.

"Pull yourself together McFly," he began, he watched her walking away, her arms clasped in a pained fashion across her stomach. Her auburn hair was glistening in the distance. She crossed the road, turned a corner, and no matter how hard Marty squinted, he couldn't see her figure anymore.

She had gone.

"Ok, McFly, it's fine, she didn't actually say she was breaking up with you," he said loudly, tugging at his poncho nervously.

"Damn, who am I kiddin'," he shouted after a while, his arms dropped to his sides and he bowed his head, sighing under his breathe.

He suddenly sat down on the verge, lying flat out, though the angle allowed him to still see the smoking remains of the beloved DeLorean.

There was no way he could travel back through time to fix _this _mess. He thought though, that he had created the kind of irreversible paradox that is hard to pull back together again. He'd sooner go back through time than hope Jennifer would allow him take back what he had said to her.

He stood up and looked mournfully down the tracks. There was no "ding, ding" of the warning, the barriers were still and there was no distant rumbling of wheels across metal.

Marty then took one step onto the sleepers. He stared down at his feet, and then moved his gaze to take in the scrap metal strewn all around him.

His eyes caught the site of the glowing flux capacitor. The thing was still rippling with light. Marty was someone who had lost a friend, and he finally knew that he hadn't just lost Doc; he'd lost the car of his dreams, and possibly the girl as well.

He bent down and touched the flux capacitor, and was slightly taken aback, it was still emitting heat.

He frowned at it, and then straightened up. He cried aloud and kicked it out of unintended anger. It hummed as it flew through the air, and then fell silent as it bounced from the track to the stones on the floor. It clattered and clanged to a stop, and finally went dead.

It was over then. The days that now seemed years ago. In reality, they were, but the memories were fresh in his mind, the good, the bad and the ugly.

With a forlorn glance at the wreckage, Marty turned away for what he hoped was the last time.

He couldn't even bring himself to pick up any of the pieces, of the DeLorean, and, more importantly, his relationship with Jennifer.

Grabbing the framed picture of himself and Doc standing beside the clock that was, back then, soon to be hoisted to its new home, and grave, on the courthouse, Marty began the long walk back home.


	2. Homeward

I got such a great response for the first chapter, I was going to postpone this one until tomorrow, but I just had to put it up for you guys! Thanks to all of my reviewers! You guys are awesome! A bit of a longer chapter for you here! The third and the fourth will possibly be up tomorrow, and the rest will follow quickly!

**Fine-Tuning the Future**

**Chapter 2**

The sun was just a sinking, orange orb hanging in the sky, and it bathed everything in a crisp, golden light. Buildings cast lengthy shadows across gardens; cars glinted as if they had just been washed.

Marty had his head down though, and admiring the sunset wasn't what his mind was set on.

The cold was beginning to bite. October was one of those months, after all. Marty even ignored the freezing chill that was looming over him. He had his poncho slung over his shoulder. His mother would scold him for that, but that'd be nothing compared to the lecturing he'd get about Jennifer. He hoped she hadn't called over or telephoned just yet, Marty was a little too tired to argue with anyone tonight.

He groaned to himself for the fifth time in the past few minutes. He slowed his walking pace, if only to prolong the time before he got home.

Even the lions sitting on there pedestals and proudly roaring to an invisible crowd were mocking him, and as he turned to stroll down the suburbs in Lyon Estates, his eyes met the low sun.

He had no shades, he'd left them at home a while before, and Doc would never have tolerated them in 1885.

So, Marty sighed once again and raised his hand above his eyebrows, doing it the old-fashioned way.

He'd give anything for his hoverboard right now, or even his old mark one, the trusty skateboard. Both were out of reach, either in a different time frame or locked in the garage.

It felt like eons, but he finally reached his house. He was momentarily worried that he had missed it, but there was his Dad's car, clear of any crushing dents. That never really happened in the first place, and Marty was the only one who knew about it anymore.

Marty staggered slightly on the driveway, but arrived at the gate. Reaching up to pull it open, he found he didn't need to.

Lorraine was standing there wearing an apron and a vicious look. She was tapping her foot, and her hands were resting on he hips.

Marty fought the urge to roll his eyes and push past her, but she was his mother, so he stood where he was.

"Don't give me that "What have I done now" look, Martin." She said with her jaw set.

Marty was unaware he had ever given her such a look, but he must have, because the next thing Lorraine did was grip his arm roughly and pull him closer to her.

"What on _Earth_ do you think you're doing walking around out here? You run off and I don't see you the entire afternoon! No calls either! Didn't you even think about us every time you passed a phone booth? Out of change again were you? How many times do I have to tell you that you should always have change with you! Oh are you going to get it when your father comes home!"

Marty shut out her voice. He often did when she was like this. He had learnt to just agree with everything she said, nod and stay calm. She herself would cool down much quicker. He'd rather have a quick five minutes of yelling than a whole week of silence and silent fuming.

"Get inside right now! Get changed into something more practical as well, I don't know why you're wearing that cowboy get-up! To be honest, somehow I don't want to either!" she said again, her voice lowering to a hiss.

Marty looked at her with tired eyes and what he thought was a bit of a stupid expression.

"What are you waiting for, boy? Get in there!" Lorraine said, breathing quickly between words. She almost pushed him into the back garden, and ushered him inside.

"Marty? Where the Hell were you?" Dave said, suddenly rising from the breakfast bar. Marty smiled at him and threw himself onto the sofa.

Lorraine bustled past him and made her way into the kitchen-diner. Her face was flushed and she frowned, pouring over the cooking.

"You don't want to know, Dave," he said with a laugh.

"The thing is I think I know what you've been up to at least. Jennifer called seven times." Dave said, grinning slyly.

"What would she want to talk to me about?" Marty said, trying the innocent approach.

"Only the obvious. She sounded terribly upset…" Dave replied, grinning from ear to ear now.

"I don't see why you're so tangled up with Marty's love life," Linda said blankly to Dave as she entered, curling her hair much more adeptly than her previous self used to.

"I'm not, it's just interesting to watch the girls come and go, that's all!" Dave said, laughing and rising from the bar.

"Better call her," he said to Marty before walking out of the door and dashing up the stairs.

Marty's head came to rest in his hands. He closed his eyes and breathed out as quietly as he could. He heard the scraping of a chair across tiles. Linda had now replaced Dave as his "guide to love".

"You know, Marty, all you gotta do is call her, like Dave said. We girls can be real sensitive and get all puffy eyed over stupid things. You say something, she don't agree, you defend yourself and she runs off, possibly with another guy if you ain't careful." She said with little compassion. She had just summed up something that seemed so complex in his mind in a few simple words.

How true she was though. Marty glanced up and hopefully seemed to look as if he was thinking about what she had just said.

Of course he wouldn't call her. He'd dial the number, Jennifer would answer, he'd breath down the line for a minute or two, choke back tears and slam the phone right back down again.

He smiled. Despite all that the past afternoon had brought, he'd still have school to look forward too. Thinking sarcastically seemed to cheer him up.

"See? There's your answer, I hope you do what you think is right, yadda, yadda. In the future, think before you say something. You've always been like that, it's no compliment." Linda said with a smile.

"The future?" Marty repeated. This time he really did think on what his sister had said.

He left without listening to her reply and decided to leave and get changed into something more modern and fitting to the time period. Somehow though, the Eighties didn't seem so modern anymore, not after 2015.

He reached the foot of the stairs and slowly ascended them. He paused at the top, and stared down the short corridor. Dave's room door was ajar, and the slip of light was beaming through, creating a bright line on the cream wall opposite.

Marty smiled, remembering that "Indiana Jones" movie he had watched in the cinema four years ago. He didn't like the second one as much as the first. He hoped that there would be a third, as trilogies were the best kind of movie saga in his eyes.

Sliding across the wall, walking right through the light and whispering "Damnit" quietly, he stood up properly and pushed open the door to his own room.

He still couldn't believe that it belonged to him. It was so alien after all those years living with a garbage dump for a bedroom.

He spun in a circle, taking in the sheer cleanliness of the place once again. He saw the desk that was clear, the drawers that closed properly, the carpet that he didn't even know the colour of before now and the bed made.

Throwing the poncho on the bed, Marty decided that there was really no point putting on anything else on tonight, especially something clean. He sat on the edge of the bed instead and stared at the ceiling.

He closed his eyes and finally breathed normally. His content, however, was not the kind that lasted.

………………………………………………………..

"Martin!"

Lorraine's voice carried clearly up the stairs, but was muffled as it met the door of Marty's room. It took a few more calls to get him up, and he jumped of the bed, pulled on a jacket to disguise the shirt that she had told him to replace and ran down the stairs even faster than he did in the mornings when he was late for school.

"I'm coming alright?! Jesus! Gimme a minute!" he yelled in response to yet another shout.

He tripped over the last step and crashed in a heap at the front door, scratching the side of his face on the "welcome" mat.

Picking himself up and brushing the leaves that were stuck in the hairs of the mat from his hair, Marty strolled into the living room.

"Ate without me again, huh?" he said with a weak smile as he saw the dishes plied up next to the sink.

His father rose from the table. It was the first time Marty had seen George that day and he had never noticed how tall and intimidating he could look when he tried. To think that he used to just be a nervous teenager just like him once, was almost a joke.

George sighed and his shoulders relaxed.

"Marty, have you been going through hardships in school at all? I don't blame you; we were all your age once, and it was tough. You have no idea how easy you've got it nowadays, but if there's something troubling you, you have to tell us, alright?"

Marty resisted a laugh; there was so much he could never tell them, especially about what he had done in 1955. All that hard work he had put into reuniting both George and Lorraine after he accidentally endangered his very existence went without a thank you, but it had all turned out for the better. His new life may not have been as perfect as he had first seen it as, but it was better than the old one, and he would never change it. H couldn't change it, not now, not ever.

"Alright, Dad, I'm fine seriously, but when something does happen, I'll give you a call." Marty replied after a long pause.

At least they hadn't mentioned Jennifer. They liked her so much, and Lorraine always invited her over. She thought she was such a nice girl, and so did Marty. If she never visited ever again, or even talked with his mother because of him, he wouldn't know what to do.

He decided there and then that he would sort the whole thing out tomorrow. School was long, and if Jennifer wasn't in his classes, they'd meet in the corridors.

Not thinking anymore of it, Marty pushed the image of Jennifer and the next day into the back of his mind.

"As long as you're happy for the moment," George said, his eyes were cast down at the newspaper on the table and he muttered something, but Marty couldn't make out any of it even if he tried.

"Yeah…just awesome…" Marty said with a confused look and he turned away.

The evening was going to be one of those long, boring and silent ones, and, even though he was starving, Marty never asked for anything to eat that night.


	3. Long Day

'Ere I am again, with another chapter, even longer than the previous one! I sort of rushed it, so if it is _that_ bad, I can change it. I hope there aren't too many mistakes in this one.

P.S, Marty falling off his skateboard is supposed to be symbolism that he can't control the course in which things are going, etcetera…

Perceive it how you will, next chapter up tomorrow sometime.

**Fine-Tuning the Future**

**Chapter 3**

"Good morning, Hilldale! It's another beautiful October morning and you're here with me for two loaded hours of non-stop hits and headlines!"

Marty rolled over and stared up at the radio clock with an aching neck. His vision was blurred and it took several attempts at grabbing for the alarm clock before he managed to finally grasp it.

He blinked a few times to adjust to the light, and he stared at the glaring red numbers, that at first seemed jumbled, but then he saw the time for what it really was.

"Oh for the love of…" leaving his curse hanging, Marty threw off his covers and went through the usual routine of hurriedly dressing. He grabbed at his schoolbag that was lying behind the door and slung it on one shoulder.

He dashed down the stairs, making sure to jump over the step that had felled him the night before and skidded into the kitchen-diner.

"Marty, your breakfast…?" began his mother, but Marty immediately waved her away and shook his head.

"Not this morning, I'm late! I'll buy something at the cafeteria!" he shouted back at her as he leaped over the threshold of the front door and made straight for the garage.

"Please be unlocked…" he prayed to no-one in particular, and snatched the handle in the middle of the garage door. He pulled up on it, but to no avail.

"Holy Christ! Who the Hell didn't unlock this!" Marty was on the verge of shouting for his father, but the car was missing.

"No, no, no…" he repeated, tugging hard on the latch once more, just in case it was just slightly stuck.

He dashed back into the house, throwing open the front door as he did so, and flew into the hallway, slamming into the inner garage door.

He tried the handle.

"MOM? Where's the garage key?" he yelled, pulling so hard on the handle it was groaning in protest.

"You want your skateboard, Marty? Your father got it out for you last night before he locked up! It's under the table!" his mother's voice reached his ears and he yelled in frustration.

Running into the dinging room, he dived under the table and scrabbled about between the chair and table legs before he managed to pull his skateboard out.

"Next time, you tell me where you put my stuff!" he shouted behind him. He walked to the door, opened it and slammed it shut again.

He dropped the skateboard and let it roll, before taking a running jump and landing on it awkwardly.

The board slipped under his feet and he went forward, landing on the paving shoulders first.

Marty groaned after a few seconds of lying there in the position he had landing in. He felt a sudden panging pain across his arm, and by carefully rolling up his denim jacket's sleeve, caught the sight of a great, red graze.

He whimpered at his own clumsiness and sat up. He cocked his head at the board that was rolling to and fro in front of him.

He reached out for it, but a huge, black tyre suddenly cruised its way casually behind the board, nudging it out of the way.

Marty could smell the rubber he was so close, and he scampered backwards slightly.

"Fall off your board, Marty Mc_Loser?_" a familiar voice mocked. It had a slight lisp and a common accent about it.

Marty followed the tyre up slowly; met dirty, red bodywork and his eyes eventually saw the speaker leaning out of the truck.

"What do you want, Needles?" Marty said, he was trying to sound bored with the conversation already. He picked himself up as normally as he could and tried to grab the skateboard once again, but the truck suddenly lurched forward, forcing Marty to pull his hand away.

Needles' course laughter echoed around the street, strangely in tune with that of the humming engine of his truck.

The skateboard had wedged itself neatly in front of the right tyre, and Needles, noticing, raised his eyebrows at Marty.

Marty, as equally silent, almost dared him to move forward with the look in his eyes.

"You want me to break your little four-wheeler here? You got a nicer set o' wheels, and you still use this piece of cardboard to get to school? You're a Joke, McFly!" Needles said with another horrific laugh.

"You still ride this trolley to school too huh? I guess we're as bad as each other!" Marty retorted.

Needles hardly moved at Marty's comment, and then Marty realised why. There was someone else in that truck with him. There was no noisy gang though, and no loud, pulsing music.

"Leave it, Marty…" a feminine voice drifted past Needles and almost hit Marty in the face.

"Jennifer?" Marty said quietly. He took a step towards the car, but Needles forced the truck forward another violently quick inch.

Marty stopped where he stood instead of provoking Needles. He thought about spinning on his heel and walking away, but he was curious. He just hoped curiosity never killed a McFly.

"So this was your plan all along? You find some, some excuse! Something that I could say to you to "drive you away" and you get me down all night, keep me off your back, then you end up with, with…this?" Marty said, his voice quivering and his finger pointing at Needles, who gave a look of, "hey, it wasn't me".

"It's not like that at all, Mart-"

"Me and Jenny here have a lot to catch up on, we have such similar interests! A tardy for being late is nothing compared with getting' a girl like her, McFly, though I'm still wondering how she began with a loser like you. I guess you gotta claw your way up the ranks of love, nowadays!" Needles said with a sly smile.

Marty adjusted his jacket matter-of-factly and tried to not seem too shaken by the whole thing.

"Real happy for you two, I hope I get an invitation to the wedding." He replied.

"All you'll get today McFly is a tardy, see you in class!" Needles laughed and the wheels squeaked as he accelerated forward. The truck crushed the skateboard like an origami model being trodden on.

Marty stood dumbstruck for a few panic-stricken moments, and as Needles pulled away and reversed out onto the road, he called out to him.

"You asshole!" he yelled, chasing the truck out onto the road.

The truck swerved in his direction and Marty tripped over the kerb as he tried to escape.

More laughter rang through the neighbourhood and the truck moved like a tank down the road and out of sight.

"Bastard…"

Marty looked to the splintered wood and metal that remained of his board. He rapidly gathered up all the pieces, cutting his hands and wrists several times whilst doing so and threw it all onto the lawn of next door's garden.

He didn't think he could face school now, he'd be at least half an hour late if he started walking now, he'd make it in fifteen if he ran, but that didn't seem to lighten his mood.

He kicked the ground. Everything was falling apart around him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Despite all he thought on the matter, he turned to face the direction he'd have to take to school, and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, and nothing else.

………………………………………………………

There was no Jennifer waiting at the steps to smuggle him in this time. Marty strode up the stairs heavily and opened the double doors.

One person, at least, hadn't changed.

Strickland was standing in the centre of the main hallway, tapping his foot with his arms folded. He unfurled them to reveal that slip of paper everybody dreaded.

Marty just kept walking, but grabbed the paper as he passed the principal and uttered a "Thank you sir."

Pushing open the door and slinging his bag under the desk, Marty ignored the stares that the class of his current lesson gave him.

The teacher gave him a brief glance, and then returned to the lecture she was giving.

Marty sat down with little grace and slouched in his chair.

He heard sniggering and whispered comments from the back of the room, and he tried to ignore them.

Finally having to cover his ears with his hands casually, Marty leaned over the desk until his hair brushed its surface.

His teacher's voice was a quiet hum, and finally everything was muffled.

Marty's eyes started to ache as well as the graze across his arm, which he had managed to stay oblivious of until now.

He felt sick to think about what Needles was going to do with Jennifer, but he suddenly remembered. She had left him, and not the other way around. Why should he feel anything for her anymore, be it empathy or desire? It wasn't his fault, he had tried to explain everything to her truthfully, and she'd thrown it all back at him. If anything, she _deserved_ to hook up with someone as repulsive as Needles.

She probably pitied him when he had asked her if she wanted to go out with him. "Poor little guy, he's always being bullied, always late, he's got nothing to live for, I'll be his light at the end of the tunnel. If anything his grades might rise. He needs something to shoot for after all." That was it.

She'd stuck with him just to keep him going. There was no love there in the first place.

Marty shook his head, erasing the thoughts from his mind. Of course she had loved him. The negative feelings were beginning to take a hold, and their claws were digging in deep.

He heard a ringing, and after covering his head with his arms, remembered that the bell had just gone. He felt a nudge, and looked up to see the teacher shaking his arm gently.

"You weren't listening were you? Is something wrong, McFly? I'll excuse you from the homework either way. You should go home, you don't look as perky as you usually do," she said to him, her voice barely audible.

"Everything is great, just feeling a little…" How did he feel? Distressed? Angered? Did he even feel Lovelorn?

"Alright, if you're sure now?" the teacher said, watching him rise from his seat and kick his bag out from under the desk.

"It's nothing serious, I'll be fine tomorrow," he said with a forced smile.

"Right then, off you go, see you next lesson," she whispered. She had said the sentence with a slow pace and a concerned look.

Marty smiled again, snatched his bag from the floor and left the classroom without a word.

He paused outside the door. He looked out onto the corridor and watched the rest of the pupils walk, run and fall past him.

Was he selfish? Concerned too much with his own life, and never thinking about the others, the others who could have far worse problems than his own?

Probably, he thought, but there's nothing I can do. I can't change the past.

He took one step forward and met someone coming the other way. The last straw, Marty grabbed at the other's shirt and raised his clenched fist threateningly. His scowl, however, softened and became apologetic.

He released his grip on the frightened boy, who dropped to the floor and scrabbled around trying to pick up his scattered books.

Marty's bag had slipped from his hand and lay on the floor. He knelt down and picked it up.

Before he could say anything, the boy was fighting his way down the corridor.

"Sorry…" Marty said. The word was absent of the sarcasm it used to have, it being replaced by slight shame.

Marty looked around once more, and in the corner of his eyes, he caught the sight of auburn hair and a blue jacket.

"Marty?" Jennifer asked loudly. People were still pounding down the hall, and Marty used this as an excuse to ignore her. He didn't want to do it, he just didn't want to seem weak to Jennifer.

"Marty!" she shouted this time, and waved over at him. He rolled his eyes painfully and strolled towards her. He leaned against the lockers and didn't look at her.

"What do you want, Jennifer?" he asked as proudly as he thought possible.

"I lost Needles over in the science block; I hope I stalled him long enough. I want to apologise for this morning, I swear I didn't-"

"Apologise? I think I should be the one apologising, I'm sorry I ever thought I liked you." Marty said with a frown. His expression rapidly changed from hate to sudden compassion, and he turned to look at her.

She looked worried. She was far too worried for a girl who had found "a better guy".

"I am so sorry; I didn't mean a word of that. Don't listen to anything I say, I'm…having a bad day." He said solemnly.

"Marty, something is terribly wrong, Needles, he's _stalking_ me or something, I think it's just so he can get to you for maybe showing him up the other day." She said, her voice shaking. She had her arms clasped around her stomach, just the way she was as she left him.

"So, you don't hate me?" Marty said, ignoring her comment.

"Marty that has nothing to do with it! I just needed to tell someone about this-"

"So you tell the guy who is most likely to tell a teacher, just so you don't look bad in front of your new gang?" Marty replied. His voice rose.

"Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself? I come to you with a problem and you push me away, just to keep your own ego where it is, which was, if you haven't noticed, never any good to begin with!" Jennifer said and her voice was almost at shouting volume.

"I'm sorry if I have to put myself before others, it's my life after all, it's the only one I got, and if I screw it up, I'd only have myself to blame, and no-one else!" Marty shouted. Less people were bustling past them, and the throng was thinning quickly.

"That's really considerate of you…" Jennifer spat. Despite the strength in her voice, her eyes were glistening.

"Sort out your own problems, Jen, I'm through with them." Marty hissed.

_Shit, why did I tell her that? Am I really that selfish?_

"Well, I hope _you_ live a long and insufferable life, Martin McFly, because I'll never let you moan at me again as long as _I_ do!" Jennifer shouted. This time, she really did slap him. It was the cold and hard type, and Marty resisted the urge to double over in shock.

She stormed away from him for the second time in two days, and when she had entered the door that led to her next class, and when everyone had left the halls empty, Marty punched the locker behind him so much that it was dented.

Pulling the strap of his bag over his shoulder once more, he walked wearily to his second class.

It was going to be a Hell of a long day.


	4. Rain and Tyres

So sorry that it's late…and rather short. That's the way the cookie crumbles. I was also so slow at writing this one, I have no idea why, let's hope it isn't writer's block setting in!

**Fine-Tuning the Future**

**Chapter 4**

It turned out to be the longest day Marty could remember. After several paper planes being thrown in his direction, some name-calling and even a scene he could remember watching, he thought he'd pass out. It was the same scene that had once played out in front of him not long ago that got him. It involved his teenage father, a piece of paper, and everybody else.

He never saw Jennifer again that day, and he was glad of that. He wanted to apologise, but also had his pride to think about. That came with being a teenager in school, you had to be aware of your placement in the hierarchy, and you also had to give up a few things to keep it.

Marty breathed a sigh of relief as the final bell rang for the end of the school day.

He stumbled down the main steps at the front of the building and out into the cold. Not looking forward to the long walk home, he stood about for a while, if only to regain his senses from the numbing mist hanging like a sheet across the floor.

He stayed fixed to the ground for as long as he thought he could, before finally giving in and beginning the journey he guessed he should get used to, now his skateboard was out of action.

He had given his mother a false promise that morning; he didn't enter the cafeteria once that day, if only out of laziness. He felt truly ill, but he only had himself to blame.

The tips of his trainers caught against the paving slabs on the pavement as he walked, and he even lost balance whilst moving forward, slipping and falling into a fence or a wall.

Tiny, round patches of wet appeared like magic in front of him, and then he felt the culprits dampening his hair. The rain changed from a slow drizzle to a freezing torrent in a matter of minutes.

Puddles formed in the potholes in the road and at the side of the kerb. Marty splashed through every one that lay in his path. The bottoms of his jeans were dark with water and mud, and as vehicles thundered past, headlights flashing and windscreen wipers working double-time, they sent waves of dirty water across the pavements.

The sky was darkening and everything was covered in a dark blue hue. Black clouds rolled through the sky, rumbling threateningly.

Not trying to speed his pace, Marty instead slowed it down, the rain was relaxing, in a way. He smiled, at least this way, if he cried, no-one could tell.

The rain was so heavy now; he could only see a few metres in front of his feet. The wobbling headlights and reflections on the road were the only source of light on the entire street.

Marty decided that he had better take the way home via the town centre. There would be more light and less danger of being killed crossing the roads.

Stopping and turning ninety degrees to face the shimmering road, he perched on the edge of the kerb.

Looking down the road for much longer than he needed to, Marty took one step out onto it.

He ran across, but he didn't need to. He wasn't breathless when he reached the other side and thankful for it.

He was now completely soaked through; his clothes were dark and dripping. His hair was limp and his fringe was stinging his eyes.

Glancing up to see whether he recognised the buildings, Marty spun on his heel to look again at the road that he had just dashed over. A lone car travelled past, cruising at thirty miles an hour.

The rain came down like stair rods, and the sound of cars and houses being pummelled by the raindrops was all around the street.

Marty walked another yard or so, and turned down an alley. He kept his head down around these places. If you look occupied and don't look like you're lost, you can usually get away with walking through unscathed.

The alley had looked a lot different in 2015. It was no less dirty and degraded.

Emerging out into the town square, he met a blast of light. Shop windows were battling with each other to look the most bright and appealing.

Marty strolled across the road now; it was far easier to see cars coming around corners. Avoiding the sodden grass and the small floods across the pavement, he stared up at the courthouse in the centre of the square. The old clock was still locked in place, and he knocked the shoulders of people minding their own business rushing past him as he watched it, as if he was waiting for the hands to move.

He vaguely heard the remarks they gave as they jostled past.

"Watch it, jerk," and "Get the Hell out the way, kid," were among the milder ones.

Silently wishing he could return to the fifties, when everyone except Biff and his gang were polite and friendly, polished and sophisticated.

Marty felt the urge to sit down and listen to the traffic filing down the roads on either side of the square, but he wasn't so desperate as to get any wetter than he already was.

Continuing down the pavement before meeting the kerb once again, he imagined himself on his skateboard and grabbing the back of an unsuspecting vehicle, allowing it to drag him home free of charge at forty miles an hour.

Shaking the image from his mind, Marty teetered on the edge of the kerb before stepping out onto the road once more.

Despite the glaring lights beating down on the road, he still missed the pair of floating headlights on his right that were drawing closer.

There was a squeaking of tyres and a long blast. Marty slipped over on the road and then the bobbing headlights were on him.

He was nose to grill with the car. He heard the click of a door being swung open, and a middle-aged man leaned out.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing, you idiotic boy? I could have killed you! Get out of here! It's too dark to be walking around here! Go home!" said the man, his voice filled with panic. Marty knew he was shouting more at himself than at him, the stupid kid sitting on the road in the path of his car.

"I'm sorry, I'll look next time," Marty said mournfully. He got up, but there was no point brushing of his trousers, as they were plastered with too much mud for it to do any good.

He walked to the pavement and watched the man drive away quickly.

It was pitch black now, and the man was right. He should head for home, not that he wasn't doing that in the first place. Marty tried to check his watch, but it read three thirty, and he knew it was later than that. His watch was as dead as the clock on the courthouse.

The rest of the journey was a blur, and he even closed his eyes for part of it, as he passed Doc's old lab. He couldn't bear to even look at the gate.

…………………………………………………………

Throwing open the door so roughly that Marty panicked for a fleeting moment that he had marked the wall, he shut it again quietly behind him and stepped into the hallway.

The first thing he looked for was a clock, and he found one hanging from the wall. He squinted up at it, and it read quarter past five.

Had he really taken that long to get home?

"Wilma, I'm home…" Marty said loudly. He looked down at his hands and saw that they were twitching. Then his shoulders went, shaking irrepressibly.

His legs gave way and he knelt on the floor. Resting one hand on his forehead, he looked up to see the dark hallway. It was then that he finally caught on.

No-one was home.

He ran clumsily to the window and peered out. His fears were confirmed. The car was gone. They had left to door open so he could let himself in, re-lock it and wait for them.

How long had they been gone? He hoped they hadn't left in search of him.

Why would they look for him anyway, he sometimes arrived home late, that was the way things turned out.

He didn't want to go back outside into the cold and the rain, but out there he could see if they were on their way back.

He left his bag where he dropped it and opened the door once again. He dashed out onto the driveway and searched the dark for the same kind of headlights that he had just encountered, too close for comfort.

He saw them. Or was it just some? It could have been anything from that distance. He looked the other way, and saw another pair.

He perceived that they would pass each other, as they were coming closer and seemingly far away.

How right he thought he was, as the pair of headlights on the right suddenly accelerated, disappeared from sight, and returned. There was more screeching of tyres, and Marty's stomach twisted as he saw what the car was doing.

It was spinning out of control.

There was a sickening scream of rubber on tarmac, and crash that made Marty cry out and then silence.

That was before the screaming began.


	5. Twisted Metal

Whoa, it's been more than a week since I have updated. It was Christmas, I had people over, and can you forgive me? I also wanted to make sure I had got this chapter right, as it's a pretty important one…

Cheers again for all the great reviews!

You guys deserve some kind of reward for, well, sticking with me! ;) I'll put it on my little userpage, for some reason, I can't put the link in here, but I know they work on my page. Go check it out! Clickie on my name!

**Fine-Tuning the Future**

**Chapter 5**

Getting up from where he had subconsciously fallen, Marty stood awestruck for seconds that felt like minutes.

People from the road were already milling about and running to the wreckage.

An old man who could have been his next-door neighbour, or lived on the other side of the block, hobbled over to Marty and shook him awake.

"Did you see it? What happened? Do you know the people in the cars?"

His questions, however, went unanswered, as Marty pulled away from his feeble grip and walked briskly to the cars that were lying all over the road.

There was a smoke tower rising from the centre, and Marty could see the damage, even from where he stood next to the pavement and peering through the misty rain.

The engines were hanging from the bonnets, and the bonnets themselves had almost been folded in half from the force at which they had been subjected.

The silver car that had spun out of control was crushed and its bodywork on the left side had been smashed in, the door hung open at an angle and swung silently.

Marty saw the blood that was splashed all over the windscreen and he felt inclined to investigate, but thankfully someone rushed over before he had a chance to move.

"Someone, call nine, one, one! There's a man hurt here! Real bad!" a young woman yelled over the hissing vehicles and the thundering rain bouncing from them.

"What about the other car?" someone else replied.

Marty watched the whole thing play out in front of him like an episode of a hospital soap. He had never thought he'd have to be an actor in one for once.

It was as if the entire street had arrived to help out, and eventually someone actually came up behind him and shoved him out onto the road, though Marty had no idea whether it was a deliberate action or not.

"Someone help us over here by the red car!" another shout rang through the noise, there was a shrill reply, but Marty never heard it, as he was already running to the truck that was half scattered across the road.

"Hey kid, you live here?" a man shouted at him.

"Yeah, just over there!" Marty yelled back, almost losing his voice. He waved his hand to where he thought his house sat, as his gaze was concentrated on the truck and the people gathered around it.

"You know these people too?" the man said in response. He tugged at the door on the passenger's side, which was caught under the car.

The whole thing was leaning on its side, the driver's door facing the dark sky above.

"I don't think so!" Marty yelled back, but to be honest, he couldn't see the two inside the truck at all. They were just dark shadows amongst the torn seats.

The man trying to pry open the passenger's door waved over some more people.

"We need to roll her back over!" he shouted.

"No, no, don't do that, there are still people in here. I can get one out I think…" Marty said, squinting through the sheet of rain in front of him.

He leapt clumsily onto the side of the truck. The whole thing creaked under his weight as he slid over towards the door. He used the roof bars to keep himself steady, but every once in a while he lost his grip.

His hand was centimetres from the door, when it flew open and almost hit him across the shoulder. A dark figure tumbled out and landed on his feet.

"You?" Marty exclaimed. He slipped from the car and almost threw himself at the person half crouching on the ground.

"Hey! What the Hell are you doing?" a voice yelled, but Marty ignored them, he was scuffling with the person who had climbed out of the truck. He was putting up a poor fight, and Marty easily over powered him.

"Hey, McFly! Give it a rest!" came a plea, though it was a muffled one, as Marty had his hands clasped firmly around the speaker's throat.

Marty reluctantly let go, but before the other could sit up, he drove his knee into his stomach, pinning him to the ground.

"Needles, you are such a son of a BITCH!" Marty yelled at him, his fist rose and hung there. There was silence all around now, and even the vehicles had stopped hissing and spitting.

"Son," the man that had addressed him before approached Marty and grabbed his shoulder.

Marty flinched and looked up.

"If you aren't going to co-operate, you can go home. I'd prefer it if everyone helped out. This kid needs to recover, not get a beating off a stupid teenager, and leave grudges behind, right now. There's still another person in that truck, and none of us can do this on our own." He said with a stern tone.

Marty got up and held out his hand to Needles, who took it.

"Who else is in the car, Needles?" Marty asked through his teeth.

"Well, y'see…"

Marty growled and grabbed the collar of his shirt, ignoring the bruising across Needles' collar bone.

"I'll ask again, who is in that car?" Marty raised his voice, but tried to keep it calm.

"Your chick, that's who," Needles said in reply, just as loudly.

"You are_ so_ asking for it!" Marty yelled, but he released his grip on Needles and shoved him back.

He climbed back onto the truck and despite slipping off a few times, managed to get a good position on the side, hooking his foot under the door handle.

He peered into the front of the car and could make out Jennifer now, at first dismissing her for a shadow in the background.

He didn't want to risk clambering into the car in case he got stuck in there, and he resisted the urge to just crawl in there to get her.

"Jennifer?" he croaked.

There was no response. At first Marty despaired that she was gone for good, but he shouted out to the people on the road.

"She's out cold!" He thought it best if he kept them all up to date with the situation he had found himself in.

He ventured into the car, balancing himself by easing himself down slowly, grabbing hold of anything that hung or was suspended.

"Jennifer?" he called again, but it was barely more than a whisper.

He climbed a bit further before the whole vehicle creaked and groaned. Marty thought that maybe the thing was threatening to tip over.

Marty paused, frozen where he was. After a few seconds, he moved again, shifting his weight to another part of the car. It complained again, but not as loudly.

Breathing slowly, he finally managed to end up as close to the unconscious Jennifer as the car's position would allow.

Marty called her name again, and this time, she stirred and he almost cried out with partial shock and relief.

There was a fair amount of blood across the dashboard, and he could make out a cut across her eyebrow. What he hadn't noticed was that her legs were trapped where the front of the car had been shoved back. Her lower legs were caught in the space where they had rested.

"Oh Jennifer, what the Hell were you doing in here…?" Marty said, he was asking himself the question more than directing it at Jennifer.

Jennifer moved again, and her eyes snapped open. Her head swivelled to face him, but he didn't think she was actually looking at him.

"Jen?" he asked.

She displayed a look of momentary confusion before she began coughing. It increased and got louder and louder.

"Whoa! We need someone in here, right now!" Marty yelled, but his eyes stayed fixated on Jennifer.

She bent over and covered her mouth with her hand, and when she moved her hand away, there was blood, and a lot if it.

"Oh no, no…" Marty denied.

"Marty?" Jennifer wheezed. She looked at him with a desperate expression, and then she saw all the blood.

Marty was no medical expert, but he knew a situation when he saw one, and sure enough, as if to answer his mental prayer, he heard the songs of sirens approaching.

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly. He smiled at her, but it was only a flash and it wasn't genuine.

"You're gonna be fine, Jen, they'll take you off in the ambulance and you'll be better before you can say time machine," he assured her.

She laughed as he said "time machine," and then she turned to face him as best she could.

"Marty, will you be there too?" she whispered.

"All the way," he promised.

The rumbling outside stopped and there were clicks of doors and the footsteps of more people sounding around the street.

"Can you get outta there, kid?" the man Marty had encountered before asked.

Jennifer gave him a forlorn look before coughing quietly.

"Don't go…" she muttered.

Unfortunately, Marty ended up being hauled out and thrown on the ground.

"Let the professionals take over now, kiddo," said a particularly assertive medic.

A team was assembled, and within minutes, the car was stripped of all excess metal, the door was ripped away and the interior was cut out.

The civilians from the street were all pushed back, and some of them struggled against the temporary barricade provided by the forces.

Marty glared at Needles, and had sudden thought. Jennifer had tried to tell him there was something wrong, that Needles was stalking her. He hadn't listened to her, hiding behind his own stupid issues. If he had listened, he could have helped avert what had happened.

"What I'd give for the DeLorean right now…" he heard himself saying, and the man next to him looked startled.

"A DeLorean? They wouldn't survive hitting road kill in one of those things," he commented.

"Yeah, well, not the DeLorean I knew…" Marty muttered. The man shook his head and disappeared into the crowd.

Marty could now just see Jennifer's blue jacket, though by now it was splattered with blood. His stomach twisted uncomfortably and he pushed past the human blockades and approached Jennifer.

"You taking her to A and E?" he asked blankly.

"Yeah, now kid, move it! I told you once already!" the same medic answered.

"No, it's all OK, I'm her…friend, she wants me to come with her," Marty replied, trying to move a little closer.

There was a smash of metal and Marty saw that the other car was getting some attention. A young man was pulled out, the type that usually tore around the neighbour hood loudly.

Both Jennifer and the young man were loaded onto stretchers.

"Let's get those doors open!" the medic shouted, and a couple of drivers opened the back doors to both of the ambulances.

Marty made a move to get into one of them, but he was pushed aside.

"No kids allowed, adults only this time," the medic said with a sneer.

"What? But I'm the only one who knows her!" Marty protested desperately.

"Sorry kid, but I think you'd only get in the way," the medic replied, this time solemnly. He gave Marty a quick shrug and slammed the doors when Jennifer was safely inside.

"I should go with you! I know where she lives! I have her details!" Marty shouted again, this time running to the front of the ambulance.

The driver wound down his window and leaned out.

"You know her details? Well, so does he,"

He jerked a thumb back to where the wreckage was. A low slung brown car came crawling into sight, and Marty knew who was behind the wheel.

"I think her own father can handle the situation from here on," the driver said kindly, but with a hint of sarcasm.

"Get that one out the way, we're headin' out!" the other man in the front said, and the window slid up again.

The sirens blared and the lights flashed. The ambulances took off with Jennifer's father's car in hot pursuit.

Marty walked into the middle of the road, the smoking wrecks smouldering behind him.

"Sorry Jennifer…" he managed to murmur before walking slowly back to the house and locking the door.


	6. Aftermath

Holy...I am SO sorry for not updating here! I've been so damned busy recently! Can you forgive me? Anyway, the chapter. I am in no way pleased with this one _at all_. I just can't stand it. I'm thinking of re-writing it. Please forgive typos or anything that sounds wrong, I didn't give this enough time whilst running through it.

**Fine-Tuning the Future**

**Chapter 6**

George McFly's sleek BMW drew to a halt in front of the wreckage that could have once been classified as a huge red 4x4. The people were still milling around on the road, most of them desperately trying to tidy things away. The sheets of metal that had been ripped from both vehicles were gone, thrown off to the side of the road with little care.

"George?!" Lorraine exclaimed.

"I know, I see it Lorraine," George replied, his jaw set and his eyes dark.

He eventually managed to pull the car into the driveway, the sound of something crunching under the tyres was of no concern as it usually would have been, all that was on George's mind was what the Hell had happened right outside his front porch.

He kicked open the door and tumbled out onto the driveway. He rushed madly to the door and fumbled with his keys, searching through them to find the correct one.

The key was millimetres from the lock when George heard the scraping sound of a latch being drawn across and the _thunk_ of something being unlocked.

George came nose to forehead with his son, and he had such a forlorn and grim look on his face he could have sworn the boy was not his own.

Lorraine bustled past him and almost bowled Marty over. She threw her arms around him and said something so muffled and so quiet Marty couldn't hear it, as she was speaking into his shoulder.

"Marty?" George croaked. He straightened his tie and adjusted his collar, "what happened out there? Did you see it?" he tried again.

"Yeah, I saw it," Marty said blandly. He rubbed his arm nervously and nudged at his mother to let go of him.

"Oh Marty, for a second there I thought it had something to do with you!" Lorraine said, panicked.

"It had a lot to do with me…" Marty replied, giving her a brave smile, "you gonna shut the door or are you going to let us freeze in here?" he added, waving a shaking hand at the door that swung silently in the mild breeze. The rain was pattering into the hall in front of it.

George silently obeyed, shutting the door. The sound of it slam echoed about the entire house, and a deathly silence fell down upon the three standing in the hall, each with dripping clothes and a mournful expression.

The pause lasted eons, and it was until George spoke, breaking the crisp silence, that the atmosphere improved.

"Want to tell us what happened?"

"Not particularly…it was an accident, there were two cars, I think you can guess the rest," Marty replied with his usual tone, sarcasm covering how he really felt about the situation.

"Now, Marty, I know it was more than that," George responded, his brow furrowing. He grabbed Marty's arm and almost ripped his denim jacket from his back. He showed Marty the blood that was clinging to the material.

"I think this explains a little more," His father concluded. He threw the jacket back at Marty, who caught it and in turn sent it to the floor.

"_Now _can we please have an answer? We're your _parents,_ Martin," George went on.

Marty scowled, they were imposing the old "tell your parents, there's no-one else you can turn to,"

Marty's answer was Doc, and it always had been.

"Well?" George said again, folding his arms impatiently.

Marty just stared at the ground, occasionally looking up with a hurt look in his eyes.

"Look," said George, he suddenly became sympathetic, pity framing his features, "You can tell us you know."

Marty didn't know why he couldn't just answer, it seemed that his throat had closed up and he was now unable to speak. He whimpered slightly, coughing and holding his hand around his throat.

"Marty?" began Lorraine, but Marty had already thundered upstairs and slammed his door. Marty was shocked to feel tears forming in his eyes, as he picked up whatever he found and hurled it across the room. He slumped, face forward onto the bed, moaning to himself. He was so angry with his own stupidity, he was such an idiot.

He didn't know why he couldn't have gone, fixed everything; it would all be fine again. At least, it might be fine if the Doc was around.

The Doc, oh great, there was another wave of tears.

He thumped his fist into the bed as hard as he could, screaming in anger and threw the radio that he found above his bed towards the direction of the window. The glass shattered, reminding him of the windscreen of the road outside. He screamed random words of frustration at the broken window. At that moment, the door behind him was flung open and George and Lorraine entered.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Marty?" George shouted. Marty turned on the spot and stared at his father, suddenly seeing him in a new light.

"You can't boss me around you know," Marty said, a coldness forming in his voice. "I can do anything I want… so just leave me alone,"

"Martin McFly, what's got into you?!" Lorraine roared, her voice rising and falling in different places.

"Yeah Marty, what the hell are you doing?" George asked.

"What I should have done a long time ago," Marty whispered, running over to the window and placing one foot on the sill. Suddenly, his parents sprung into action, edging their way around the side of his bed.

"L-look, Marty we can-," Lorraine cut in, she reached a hand out to him, and Marty stared down his nose at her like she was something the neighbour's cat had dragged in.

"Marty, for God's sake, don't jump!"

Marty stared from the ground so far below him, up to the blood red sky and back down again.

With a sudden movement, Marty spun around, jumped over his bed and ran out of the open door. It took a few seconds for his parents to realise what he'd done, but they quickly followed his route from the door and down the stairs.

Upon reaching the hallway, they were extremely surprised to see him lying awkwardly on the floor with Biff standing over him, holding a large exhaust pipe. He had a sheepish grin on his face as he looked from Marty, to George, whose eyes were mirroring his own, and then down to Lorraine, who was hunched over Marty, trying her best to wake him.

"It's no good Mrs. McFly," Biff said coughing slightly and making his voice a little lower. "He's out cold. He just opened the door and ran headlong into this," he banged the pipe, and it made an echoing metallic sound which filled the whole hall way.

Biff smiled weakly, not knowing whether to run or stay.

"It's actually a good thing that happened, Biff," George said, for once meaning every word. "If he hadn't run into that and got knocked out, who knows where he might have gone."

"Thanks Mr. McFly," Biff mumbled. He looked down at the exhaust that Marty had flown straight into. It was a relief; he couldn't afford to lose George as his customer. He even thought maybe it was out of pity or sympathy that he let him work with his car so often, but Biff's simple yet logical mind couldn't quite grasp the idea properly.

Lorraine had a look of shocked horror on her features, but she didn't panic, she just tried lifting her unconscious son to a sitting position.

"What shall we do with him, George?" she sighed. She hated seeing her children distressed, and it was even more difficult to work with any of them when they refused to tell her what was wrong.

"Take him upstairs, I'll try and get hold of someone to clear the mess from outside my house," George stated blankly.

He looked quickly to Biff, who was nervously stepping from foot to foot.

"Biff, you'd better go, I'm sorry you only just got here, but you noticed what's outside, and it needs clearing up," George said to him, clapping one hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah sure, Mr. McFly, I was only gonna drop this off anyways, I mean you were out with you car, so I couldn't exactly offer my services could I?" Biff said with a laugh.

"Of course, Biff…" George showed him the door politely and Biff almost ran from the hall and down the drive.

George presumed he had parked his truck around the corner and come the back way to the front, which was the only way an individual would miss the wrecks lying outside.

George followed Biff outside after a silent second, and stood at the top of the drive. The emergency services had arrived, the flashing yellow lights reflecting from the road, and one of the cars had already been towed away. There were less people walking around now, and the road was clean. Soon there would be doubt as to whether anything had happened at all.

He turned on his heel and strode back into the house. He shouldn't have let Lorraine drag Marty all the way up the stairs, and he entered the kitchen, only to find Marty leaning low over the table.

There was a large red mark across his forehead and crossing his right eyebrow, but it didn't seem to be affecting him.

He heard clattering in the kitchen, so George sat down opposite Marty at the table, the squeaking of his chair scraping across the tiles painfully loud.

Marty never even looked up.

"Hey, you're gonna make yourself sick leaning over like that," George said sternly, yet softly.

Marty grunted in reply. His hand reached out to cover the bruising on his head and he closed his eyes tight.

George sighed and stood up again, shoving his chair backwards. He made his way to the kitchen, where he pulled Lorraine over to him so they could talk quietly.

"Did he come around?" he asked.

"I think it was just a little shock, I don't believe he was out for a minute…" Lorraine replied. She cast her eyes over to Marty, who hadn't moved since George left him.

George nodded slowly and returned to where Marty sat, his eyes still fixed on the table before him.

He knew that his parents were sickly worried about him, but for once, he didn't seem to care.

_Stupid Biff,_ he thought slowly rubbing his forehead and still making eye contact only with the table. _Stupid Biff and his stupid exhaust pipe. If he hadn't been in the way, I could have had a clean get away, I could have gone to the hospital, and… oh, I don't know._

He dared himself to take a look upwards, maybe smile reassuringly, but the only thing he could manage was a quiet cough. He closed his eyes as tight as he could, and Lorraine entered, bustling past him, she was pulling the sternest face he'd ever seen her wear.

He felt a tear slowly roll down his cheek, as if his inner self wanted him to go into uncontrollable weeping.

George and Lorraine looked at each other and as soon as their backs were turned again, Marty crept silently out of the door. After closing it quietly behind him and running around the side of the house, slipping occasionally, he couldn't help but giggle at his own cunning. His parents came out a few seconds later, looking around puzzled.

"Where the hell did he get to this time?" George shouted. Lorraine's face was a mix of worry and fury, as she began to run off in the opposite direction. Marty knew the exact place to go, and he was going to run there.

……………………………………………

Marty burst into the hospital, the main doors swinging madly after he had stormed through them. He panted, looking around frightened and worried, where the Hell could she be? He ran over to the receptionist, who gave him a suspicious glance, as if he was likely to shoot her or something.

"Hi…" he said, trying as hard as he could to catch his breath. " Do you know where I could find Jennifer Parker?"

The receptionist hesitated for a breathless second; Marty saw her fingers move fast as lightning after that tense pause. They flew across the desk, sorting through the papers in front of her the way a machine would. She looked through documents that Marty could only recognize as an "in" patients list or something similar. He tapped the desk, steadying his breathing as he waited.

"You want one floor up, she's in room 12," she stated. She gave the boy in front of her a grim look, but it was only a flash and she quickly resumed her work, expecting him to leave her alone.

He shouted something that sounded like "Thank you," but he could hardly breathe all over again.

Quickly turning back after realizing he was going the wrong was he ran back past the reception desk, the receptionist glaring at the back of him, no doubt, up the stairs and along the corridor. The pounding of his trainers against the squeaking surface, freshly cleaned, was loud and threatening. He spotted the room number and skidded to a halt outside, pressing his face up against the small window, making smudges and water vapor appear on the glass.

"Jen," he whispered, his voice stopped abruptly in his throat and he felt tears brimming in his eyes.

"Oh god, not again," he said, slapping himself around the face. He opened the door slowly and brushed his head around it. There she was, lying there, obviously unconscious.

He walked solemnly over to her, not caring if he wasn't allowed in there, or if she had some deadly infectious disease, he just had to see her. He sat down on the available chair next to her bed and sat there in a deathly silence which seemed to last forever. At last he decided to speak, sputtering slightly and smiling at himself.

"Jen," he began. "I'm really sorry. It's my entire fault; you of all people know that." He laughed dryly to himself. "It's all turned out horribly really hasn't it? I mean, I never imagined that this would happen. It's so stupid really."

He felt like an idiot, he knew she couldn't hear him, and yet a part of him wanted her to.

Suddenly, he jumped up in shock. Blood seeped through the sheet, as Marty panicked. Jennifer's eyes snapped open and she gasped for breath.

"Holy shit!" Marty screamed, running towards the door and calling down the corridor for help. As if out of nowhere, two doctors came running towards the room, shoving him out of the way and onto the floor.

He watched in horror as Jennifer's body began to spasm, going out of control, until suddenly, she stopped.

"What the hell's going on?" Marty shouted, sweat was dripping off his face and running down his cheeks like tears.

"She's… gone, I'm afraid," one Doctor said with a sigh.

"What?!" Marty yelled.

"She's dead."


End file.
